


Have You Ever Seen the Rain

by ArdenSkyeHolmes221



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: A4 Speculation, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie) Spoilers, Canon-Typical Violence, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Explicit Language, Exposition, Friendship, Gen, Heavy Angst, How Do I Tag, Internal Conflict, Irondad & Spiderson, Minor Character Death, Parent Tony Stark, Parent-Child Relationship, Post-Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie), Suicidal Thoughts, Tony Feels, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, Tony-centric
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-09
Updated: 2018-11-10
Packaged: 2019-08-20 21:43:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,725
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16563671
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArdenSkyeHolmes221/pseuds/ArdenSkyeHolmes221
Summary: ...he eyes the horizon and tries to breathe.“Tony?”It’s Steve’s voice calling out to him but there isn’t an ache like he thought; nothing even hurts anymore— he hears the voice that terrorized his dreams off and on the last eighteen months and it doesn’t hurt. He never thought the day would come around. It can’t be as awful as watching his kid— watching Peter go away right in front of him. Nothing ever will.Tony clutches his chest, right where the arc reactor resided for all those years, and can’t even take another step forward because he goes down to his knees. His breathing shudders and his hearing tunnels. He’s looking at the sky, rain kissing off his face and mixing with tears, perhaps, but he can’t really tell. All he knows is it didn’t hurt this bad when he lost his mom. Nothing has been so painful in his life and Tony Stark’s been through the ringer.





	1. There's a Calm before the Storm

**Author's Note:**

> I don't own Marvel or the CCR song so anything recognizable isn't mine. Let me preface this by saying THIS IS A BEHEMOTH. I played fast and loose with canon and I tried really hard to make this original in terms of A4 speculation without avoiding certain things like the plague. (Especially after promising myself I'd never write an A4 story until after next year. Welp...!) Characters may also seem OOC too. This was sparked by the title's song and the wandering about why there isn't a word for a parent that loses a child. 
> 
> My first two part story. Look for part two within the next couple of days. It's almost completely written, why I feel safe posting now, and I'm hoping to have it up no later than Saturday. See you at the bottom!

_Someone told me long ago_

_there's a calm before the storm_

_I know it's been comin' for some time_

_when it's over so they say_

_it'll rain a sunny day_

_I know shining down like water_

_I want to know_

_have you ever seen the rain?_

_I want to know_

_have you ever seen the rain_

_comin' down on a sunny day?_

_\- Have You Ever Seen the Rain_ by Creedence Clearwater Revival

* * *

Tony’s shaking. A small pinprick of pain blossoms in his side; but between the adrenaline skating through his veins and his stubbornness, he ignores it. But a crash is on the horizon and Tony is exhausted. His eyes close in a lazy blink and when they open again his body tries to warn his brain something is off. Wrong.

 

But what the hell is happening?

 

With a glance around, Tony writes it off as a nauseous side effect when Peter and everyoneelse checks out as fine. Because honestly? The past several years living with anxiety has been just like this: waiting and waiting and waiting for the other shoe to drop, knowing it’s coming but unable to narrow down a timeframe. Panic creeps up his spine but the blossoming pain is grappling for his full attention. His head reminds him a bit of a war zone. All he wants to do is take his danger magnet kid and go the hell home to sleep for the next week. Maybe have FRIDAY play a rain soundtrack for his fried nerves he’s definitely not talking or thinking about. That’s not too much to ask for.

 

“Something’s happening.”

 

His head jerks up and the nausea grips his stomach so tightly Tony turns immobile. His eyes flit to his comrade-in-arms, but terror hasgripped him at last. His brain is running formulas and reaching for possible solutions but he can’t move to put a plan into action. He _cannot_ move. Signals for danger flash across his thoughts and fear paralyzes him absolutely.

 

_Trapped trapped trapped trapped._

 

He can’t save them this time— not when he doesn’t know what’s wrong, what’s happening— not when they are dematerializing before him. _Is this what Thanos meant by wiping out half the fucking universe?_

 

“Pete?”

 

“I’m fine,” his kid wheezes. “I’m fine, Mister Stark.”

 

Tony doesn’t believe him but at the same time feels he has no other options but to trust Peter to tell him the truth. He reaches a hand out toward his kid. Peter clutches him, desperately. Tony opens his mouth to reassure him but a noise behind them draws their notice.

 

As Strange ups and vanishes after Quill and his merry band of misfits, Tony tries to catch his breath. In the span of perhaps fifteen seconds Tony witnessed the majority of his team... _dissipate? disappear? disintegrate?_ die before his very eyes. Forced his attention off his stab wound at any rate. His eyes seek out Peter, finding him startled and so, so scared. But alive. Everything feels like a dream. Like maybe if Tony pinches hard enough he’ll wake the hell up and Pepper will be next to him and all this— this bullshit dream will be nothing more than his overactive, anxious imagination.

 

Because dreams and reality are colliding and aligning and all of Tony’s fears appear to be coming to life.

 

“Mr Stark?”

 

And there goes Tony’s heart plummeting into the acidic pit of his stomach.

 

_Oh no. Please, please— not his kid. Not Peter._

 

Maybe he fell off the wagon and he’s tripping right now, acid or shrooms, does it really matter? Other wise, why the fuck would he be imagining Peter Parker dying in his arms: one second there and real and _alive_ and the next just... gone.

 

Peter left, too.

 

It should have been him. Not Peter. God, not his— not Peter.

 

And Tony can’t breathe can’t think can’t fucking move and what’s he supposed to do now? So he sits down in russet dirt, cradling his empty right hand, and waits for his turn.

 

It never comes.

 

***

 

He thinks he passed out. Since he woke up, he knows he isn’t dead. Tony has never been that lucky, has he? The throbbing in his side and stomach speaks the ultimate truth: Tony Stark has terrible luck.

 

He prods half-heartedly at his wound, grimacing at the inflammation, and slaps on a couple shoddy bandages, which are made out of part-webs and part-nanotechnology he and Peter had been messing around with just last weekend. Hopes for the best, secretly wishes the infection’ll set in. Logically knows infection will be setting in soon and wonders how it’ll heal unless he’s on Earth; he’s not sure how he’s going home. Doesn’t know if he’ll ever make it there. But home doesn’t hold any appeal to him now. Not without his kid— not when... not when Peter Parker won’t be leaving with him.

 

“Stupid,” he mutters under his breath, squeezing his already shut eyes until white spots dance across his vision. “Fucking stupid and useless. Damn it all!”

 

“Oh, good. You’re awake.”

 

“Just another unlucky asshole who can’t die,” he grumbles under his breath. Then he tries lifting his head up and looking for the only other survivor in this hellish landscape and landing on the blue metal woman. “Hi.”

 

He doesn’t remember her name.

 

“Nebula.”

 

Ah.

 

His waning energy pulls him back to the ground.

 

“I’m sorry about your son.”

 

His eyes close, denial on the tip of his tongue and oxygen trapped in his lungs.

 

“It’s not always about flesh and blood, Terran. Thanos isn’t my father. Yet he raised me. Ga— Gamora wasn’t truly my sister but she was as good as mine.”

 

_Family is who you pick_ , Tony thinks. He knows it too.

 

It still doesn’t stop his vision blurring and his chest aching in emptiness. He should apologize for the loss of Gamora, too, but the words won’t come to him. His throat is as dry as the planet they are on. She brought up Peter and now the dream-like events have been validated. They are real and Peter is gone and Tony is here. It’s not a dream. Welcome to his new fucked up reality.

 

“Know anything about fixing spaceships?”

 

Tony’s eyes meet hers, “Can probably figure something out.”

 

She jerks her head over her left shoulder, spins around, and walks away.

 

Within forty hours, they’re leaving Titan and heading for Earth.

 

***

 

_“Mr Stark, I regret to inform you there’s been an accident.”_

 

The day Tony found out he lost his mother it was sunny out.Odd for the middle of December in New York, but that’s his clearest recollection: the sun beating onto his face when he answered the front door and found the police officers. He had been hungover, probably coming down from a terrible bender, and it was barely seven in the morning. When he thinks of that day, everything comes to him in snatches and blurred edges.

 

He remembers the sun. He remembers it because he’d just lost his mother and he wanted it to rain. Wanted the Earth mourning with him because that was it: he lost the one person who was always supposed to give a damn about him. And Tony was alone.

 

Loneliness echoes inside of him like an arrhythmic heartbeat.

 

When he steps off Nebula’s revamped spaceship and sets onto Wakandan soil, the sun is heading west and a light drizzle cools down his heated skin. His heart clenches and his gait falters. He doesn’t take the time to examine anything beyond the skyline; and it’s probably for the best because all the attention is not want he needs right now. So he eyes the horizon and tries to breathe.

 

“Tony?”

 

It’s Steve’s voice calling out to him but there isn’t an ache like he thought; nothing even hurts anymore— he hears the voice that terrorized his dreams off and on the last eighteen months and it doesn’t hurt. He never thought the day would come around. It can’t be as awful as watching his kid— watching _Peter_ go away right in front of him. Nothing ever will.

 

Tony clutches his chest, right where the arc reactor resided for all those years, and can’t even take another step forward because he goes down to his knees. His breathing shudders and his hearing tunnels. He’s looking at the sky, rain kissing off his face and mixing with tears, perhaps, but he can’t really tell. All he knows is it didn’t hurt this bad when he lost his mom. Nothing has been so painful in his life and Tony Stark’s been through the ringer.

 

So when his breathing becomes so sporadic that black dots loiter across the scenic landscape before him, Tony willingly succumbs to unconsciousness.

 

***

 

When he’s roused some indeterminate time later, Rhodey’s beside him. Tony stares. His friend’s red rimmed eyes and downcast expression is a fresh wound in Tony’s already tattered psyche. Once Rhodey realizes Tony’s awake their gazes lock, unflinching in the face of another life-changing reality, it feels as if Tony is being stabbed all over again, only this time in the heart.

 

“Peter?”

 

“He— he’s gone.” he croaks.

 

“Oh, Tones. _Tony.”_

 

And the hole in his chest widens further but his best friend attempts to bridge the gap. Rhodey grasps onto his left hand and holds it with both of his own. And Tony feels himself beginning to let go. He doesn’t give a shit as he begins shuddering and stuttering, reaching out blindly with his right hand and the hand that latches on isn’t the one he wants but he’ll take it. His kid is gone and Tony’s alive. Life is not fucking fair.

 

“Rhodey— I _can’t_.”

 

“You know you don’t have to be strong around me, Tones.” his friend whispers, tone thick with shared grief. He loves Peter, too. “Let it out.”

 

So he does.

 

He sobs for the injustice of it all— for the loss of someone as pure as Peter Parker, who Tony had essentially began thinking of as his own child despite the circumstances (months and months of bonding will do that), and for not feeling more than minor bafflement over the loss of his makeshift space team; for the catastrophe of Thanos winning the battle; for living; for having to tell May their kid is gone; for being a shit Avenger; for everything. He hates emotions yet he has no control over the raging inferno inside of him boiling over. He can’t remember the last time— if ever— he’s cried so hard. He can barely breathe but he doesn’t care enough to stopper the pain clawing at his chest cavity with a vengeance he’s never felt, even in Afghanistan.

 

Rhodey eventually murmurs, perhaps for reassurance, “Pepper’s okay.”

 

The revelation is both relieving and upsetting: Tony’s immensely grateful he still has Pepper in the fallout of this shit storm; yet he feels like he ought to be distraught over the fact his fiancée never crosses his mind until Rhodey brings her up. Any of his burgeoning guilt is short lived, though. _Peter,_ his mind supplies cruelly and it’s a circling litany. _Peter Peter Peter Peter Peter._ His heart races and the familiar trickling sensation of panic licks at the base of his spine. He wants to scream. _Peter._ He needs to control it. (He’s not sure if he can.) Thankfully, the numbness kicks back in on a wave of exhaustion.

 

He gasps in a short breath and shudders it out on a sigh. Closes his eyes and sinks back into the bed. A flaring ache pulls his attention to his left side but he ignores it by not asking questions. Maybe ignoring it’ll make the panic attack go away too.

 

He’s almost asleep again when he feels the edge of the bed where Rhodey’s sitting start shaking ever so slightly. They both loved Peter, didn’t they? He falls asleep to thoughts of his kid apologizing in his arms as he dies.

 

***

 

The next time he wakes up, Tony’s hot and achy. As he turns over, he accidentally slaps Rhodey in the face.

 

“Jesus, Tones, you’re burning up.”

 

Tony grunts.

 

“Are you injured?”

 

Tony dozes.

 

“Tones?”

 

His head is spacey.

 

“Goddamnit, Tony,” he hears but then the rest goes in one ear and out the other.

 

Tony thinks he has been left alone and free to fall back into the oblivion sleep provides until something freezing touches his cheek. He moans. Yet the uncomfortable sensation does not abate and he peeks out through an eyeball to see the world’s turned fuzzy.

 

“Rhodey?”

 

“Right here, Tones. Where are you hurting at, man?”

 

“Side.”

 

Tony feels Rhodey poking around until he finds the wound Thanos dealt him and the noise that he makes is positively ghastly, enough that it jars him further into consciousness.

 

“What the fuck,” says his best friend. “Tony why the hell did you patch yourself up with this— you know what? Never mind. Tell me if I pull anything, will you?”

 

Tony just lies there, wincing every so often as Rhodey works off the makeshift-bandages he slapped on several days beforehand, after Nebula stitched his back. Briefly he’s impressed by how well it’s held up. _First trial a success? Why the hell not._

 

Rhodey makes distressed sounding noises and Tony blinks his eyes open. Their eyes meet and it’s a rare instance where Tony cannot make heads or tails of his friend’s expression. If he was feeling better, he’d crack a joke. The moment goes by.

 

“I need to find some supplies, okay?”

 

“Sure.”

 

Rhodey looks at him for another few seconds then promises he will be right back before leaving the room. Tony blinks and blinks and decides maybe a catnap is in order. Rhodey’ll wake him up again.

 

***

 

“You could’ve died if I didn’t find that when I did, Tony. You’re lucky to be alive.”

 

Silently, Tony disagrees.

 

***

 

Peter visits him in his dreams. Well, at least he thinks he’s dreaming. He won’t be certain until he wakes up, dazed and distressed, but for now he enjoys the time with his pseudo-son.

 

“Hey, Mister Stark!”

 

Music fills Tony’s ears at the sound of the sixteen year old. He’ll be seventeen in four months. Tony’s already made plans and God above, does he want to celebrate with the kid— not just because he had to get pre-approval from May and Pepper but because Peter deserves it. A smile stretches across his cheeks.

 

“Hey, kiddo.”

 

Arms open wide and Tony doesn’t let go once Peter has rushed into them; relishes in the feeling of his child safe and secure and absolutely _whole_ in his arms.

 

_I love you, kid._

 

Their scene shifts slowly but Tony’s hold on Peter does not lessen. Peter is the sun and Tony is in orbit. They are always within arm’s reach whether they are fiddling on upgrades for Dum-E they won’t actually install until necessary or on the couch watching re-runs of _Friends_ as Peter dozes on his shoulder. It’s moments Tony took for granted and moments he may never get again. Noise is waterlogged. He can’t smell the familiar scents of the lab’s motor oil and sharp chemicals or the living room’s vanilla candles Pepper swears by or even Peter’s mixture of oranges and sun induced sweat he knows should be there. The warmth on his shoulder is nothing more than a ghost.

 

More than anything Tony wants to hear Peter’s laugh. Try as he might he sees the younger brunet’s head tipping back and mouth falling open, but never a sound. Tony’s heart constricts.

 

“Pete.”

 

He nudges the slumbering teen’s shoulder. Then ruffles a hand through tousled curls. (He knows better than to run his fingers through those curls when Pete’s at this stage: good luck getting him to stay awake is all he has to say on the matter.)

 

“Don’t wanna.” the teen whines.

 

“C’mon, my back isn’t made for the couch no matter how comfortable.”

 

“Sleepy.”

 

Tony thinks he says something witty back in reply but the living room morphs into a desolate and foreign planet.

 

“I don’t wanna go.”

 

It’s pitch black when he comes to, salty tears slipping into his ears and mouth indiscriminately, heart galloping wildly, and his kid’s name on his lips. He doesn’t fall back to sleep.

 

***

 

The first thing he does when he returns to New York is down three cups of caffeinated coffee. The second thing he does is high tail his ass to Queens. It’s been six days since the snap that wiped out half the fucking universe and Tony can’t keep May in suspense any longer.

 

He is honestly surprised his phone hasn’t been blown up with text messages and voicemails from the irate Italian woman.

 

His surprise is answered when nobody answers the door at the Parkers’ residence. He knocks a second and third time. Nothing happens. He calls May’s cell and it goes to voicemail. Upon any lack of response, Tony digs out his emergency key and lets himself into the two bedroom apartment.

 

Immediately he can tell nobody has been home by the stale scent lingering in the entryway.

 

“God— dammit!” he curses.

 

***

 

“Tony, for God’s sake, you need to sleep.”

 

“I’m fine, Pep.”

 

“How long has it been this time? Two days?”

 

“I’m fine.”

 

“It’s okay not to be fine, Tony. I— I don’t know how else to tell you. Please, Tony; come to bed?”

 

He places down the StarkPad onto the countertop and meets Pepper’s worried blue eyes. “I can’t, Pep.” the admission is soft and broken. “I can’t sleep.”

 

“Then—”

 

“No, honey; you aren’t getting it. I can’t sleep because when I do all— God this is difficult,” he inhales sharply and Pepper links their hands, squeezing gently. “He haunts my dreams, Pep.”

 

“I know.” a tear slips down her rosy cheek. “But you can’t keep doing this, Tony.”

 

He keeps doing it anyways. After all, he’s been reliant on self-destructing cycles for the better part of twenty-five years; sleeping and eating just so happen to be the two biggest victims.

 

***

 

Tony flounders on how to describe to the original Avengers that yes, he has lost someone. (Two someones if May is counted, which she is counted.) But how does he start to explain? According to them, he has Pepper and Rhodey and Happy. His little family is alive and together.

 

“Who’ve you lost, Tony?” snipes Steve. Tony doesn’t think it’s meant with ill-intent but then again, Tony’s not able to read the super soldier as well as before. But he can hear Steve’s frustration bleeding through clear as day.

 

Anxiety grips his nervous system and he fights hard not to fidget with his hands.

 

There’s too much noise in the family room with multiple conversations going on simultaneously. And Tony doesn’t know how to explain. So everyone keeps bickering.

 

“No.” he whispers just to get it out in the open.

 

Natasha is the only one to hear him. Her brows furrow and head tilts. “What do you mean?” her reply is careful in its neutral tone.

 

“I did lose someone.”

 

Clint, a haunting expression on his aging face, meets Tony’s gaze and something like realization dawns there. Because Clint lost his entire family. “I didn’t—”

 

“Tony?” Steve questions.

 

Tony ignores the super solider and keeps his attention between the spies for a couple extra beats. His eyes flit over to Rhodey and when the colonel half-shrugs, Tony sighs. The silence is too incapacitating now. So he does what he tries to do best: fill the silence.

 

“You lost Bucky, Cap; and Sam, too. Nat lost Fury and Hill. Clint lost his entire family. Rhodey lost his mother. Brucie lost Wanda and Vision. Thor lost Loki and all of Asgard. We lost so many others on Titan and Wakanda. And me?” He glances around the solemn room, meeting everyone’s eyes. “I lost my kid; I lost the kid that may as well have been my son. I lost Peter. But you guys wouldn’t have known that. Pete— he happened after all the shit hit the fan and he’s better than all of us _combined._ He is— _was_ going to be better than us. And he’s gone. So I’m sorry for not having a glaringly obvious loss. But my kid is no different than anyone else we’ve lost.

 

“No, I take that back. Peter is worse. He’s just as bad as the loss of Clint’s kids. Why? _Because they didn’t deserve it._ ” Tony’s breathing is labored. “And if I have to fucking die to save my kid I’m going to do it. Now, who’s going to join me?”

 

Clint is the first to nod emphatically. Nat and Rhodey follows suit quickly. Bruce looks ill but determined. Thor’s nod is steadfast. Tony looks to Steve.

 

“We’re in, Tony. We are going to avenge them.”he pauses. “And for what it’s worth, I’m sorry.”

 

He whispers, “Yeah. Me too.”

 

***

 

“Fury sent me.” the blonde speaks succinctly. “I’m Carol Danvers.”

 

“Fury sent for you?” Tony is incredulous. “I didn’t even— wow. Okay then.”

 

“You’re Tony Stark, right?”

 

On a sigh, Tony answers, “Yeah, I’m—“

 

“Jimmy Rhodes’s buddy, yeah?”

 

“Got it in one.”

 

***

 

Come hell or high tide or whatever the stupid verbiage is Tony will save his kid. He was one hundred percent serious when he told the Avengers he would die to save Peter. So it doesn’t matter how many times he fails down in the lab— though that is equally frustrating in its own right— Tony tries to focus on successes. (He’s had a handful of breakdowns from failures already, three months in.)

 

“All right, Fri,” he pushes away from the desk and his chair rolls toward the countertop behind him, “bring up the blueprints on the Mark 50, baby girl.”

 

“On to something, boss?” his A.I. questions as she answers his command.

 

“The nano tech has to be a key; I feel it in my bones.”

 

“Are you sure that’s not just indigestion again, boss?” snarks FRIDAY.

 

“Hey! I resent that.”

 

“But you’re not denying it.”

 

“Shuddup, Fri.”

 

“From my perspective, you just forfeited. Even Peter is more on his game than you are when you are distracted, boss.”

 

_Peter, Peter._ The pain hasn’t lessened, but it doesn’t hurt quite as bad hearing the name from FRIDAY. Not like he’s been knifed and shot at simultaneously. Still, Tony throws out, “If you’d quit distracting me, I’d get on with geniusing.”

 

“That’s not a real word, boss.”

 

“ _FRIDAY!”_

 

“Shutting up now.”

 

Maybe Peter’s tinkering did actually hold up. Why else would his personal A.I. start snarking at him like his kid? A flash of paternal pride warms his chest.

 

_***_

 

August 10th rolls around and Tony is alone to celebrate Peter’s seventeen birthday.

 

On the previous day, Tony had been a force of chaotic, nervous energy buzzing around the lab with so much frenetic energy nobody dared venture down. Plus he had FRIDAY lock everyone out. The only one with the override code is… _somewhere_ , possibly stuck inside a fucking infinity stone if Thor’s and Bruce’s theories are to be believed… indisposed, so Tony knows he is safe. Still, doesn’t mean that observers couldn’t watch his insanity take over through reinforced glass walls.

 

By midnight, he is shaking and nearing a crash. He hasn’t slept in coming on seventy-two hours and Tony feels every ache in his fluttering eyelids. But he can’t give up. _Refuses._

 

Roughly an hour later his phone lights up with a text from Pepper.

 

**_Come to bed please?_ **

 

As his eyes stray to the time, Tony catches a glimpse of the date on his lock screen and he just… freezes.

 

“Oh no,” he breathes out, shaky and heartbroken. “No, no, no. Nonononono.”

 

In a fit of pique, he shoves off projects from the counter to the floor and isn’t satisfied with the lack of noise. So he finds something heavier to throw to the ground. And keeps on throwing.

 

The bots haven’t experienced a nervous breakdown like this in quite some time, so all three are frantic at the sudden chaos.

 

Then he starts yelling.

 

He breaks sobriety and his long ago, silent promise to Peter by drowning in a bottle of bourbon until he passes out.

 

 

 

Come mid-morning, he’s bleary-eyed. And regret roils through him like an angry sea. His head hurts, his mouth feels like someone sandpapered off all his tastebuds, his breath is retched. But it’s his guilt that kicks in, making him feel ill prepared for the endeavor before him.

 

“Fuck.”

 

He’d been sober for over twelve months and had gotten to the point where he could socially drink again.

 

Slowly, he pushes himself up from the couch he miraculously ended up on, shoos away the needy Dum-E, and stumbles out of the lab. _Gotta start slow,_ he thinks as he shuffles further into the apartment, grateful for the blessed silence. (Though he deserves the hangover nonetheless.)

 

Not taking chances, Tony cleans out every last drop of alcohol in the downtown apartment. Makes a reminder with FRIDAY to do the same at the compound upstate. He even dumps out all of Pepper’s wine. Not that she minds, she’s a sweetheart of a fiancée and helps him drain it all when she finds him fifteen minutes into collecting bottles.

 

He’s gotta stay sober.

 

***

 

“I am an idiot.”

 

It’s the middle of September and he’s elbow deep in dismantling a suit when the thought comes to him.

 

“Holy shit, I am the world’s biggest fucking idiot.”

 

Tony shakes off lingering parts as he maneuvers away from a dismantled Iron Man and toward Peter’s unoccupied space in the corner. A surge of hysteria worms into his veins. He’s probably losing his mind but he’s hoping.

 

“Where are you?” he murmurs under his breath as he starts leafing through Peter’s notes on the countertop and inside the draws, “C’mon, c’mon, c’mon!”

 

He finds a few pens minus their lids and several snapped pencils. He rolls his eyes and keeps looking. He shuffles around the laminated version of the webs formula, a joke from Pepper, and fishes out random bolts and nuts to place on the counter. He pitches the empty spearmint gum wrappers and small paper case because the kid never would have done it. When he sees the noise canceling headphones on top of the pile in the next draw, Tony bites down on his tongue.

 

“Shit.”

 

He can’t find their notes.

 

“Fri, do you have video surveillance about six weeks before... about six weeks since the last time Pete was here?”

 

“Depends on what you are looking for, boss.”

 

He rolls his eyes fondly. “We were discussing nano tech and _Doctor Who_ if memory serves.”

 

“That sounds like an ordinary day for you two.”

 

“Fri.”

 

“Sorry, boss; filtering now.” his A.I. doesn’t sound very apologetic, but Tony did create her to be a smartass. “I’ve narrowed it down to ten potential conversations. Would you like me to narrow further?”

 

Tony whistles, “For a kid who doesn’t really like _Doctor Who_ he sure does talk about it a lot.”

 

“You and Peter like to hear yourselves talk, boss; I do not think it matters what it is you are talking about.”

 

“Enough outta you, baby girl. Just bring up the videos on my personal StarkPad, will ya?”

 

“Anything for you, boss.”

 

He swipes the device and starts viewing videos. Specifically starts looking for a conversation about relativity. His kid’s voice filters through the lab for the first time in five months and it hurts _so much._ Feels like the stab wound he had on Titan but centered in his chest and it’s on fire. Momentarily it completely overwhelms him and he bends down the middle to catch his breath. Then his jaw clenches and determination straightens his resolve; Tony has a protégée to save and a world to correct.

 

(He’s really only working for Pete but he _is_ supposed to be an Avenger, too, technically; maybe. Who knows? Okay, so Tony’s working with Earth’s supposedly mightiest heroes to right a dumbass grape’s quest for greed— but Pete was taken because of the dumbass and that’s not okay with Tony in any world.) (He’s really gotta stop hanging out in the lab by himself all the damned time.) ( _Focus, Tony!_ )

 

He can bend time, right? It’s not so outlandish. He is a futurist, after all, and the future has been heading toward time travel for some time. About time someone got onto it and who better than him to nudge it forward?

 

_If only it’s that easy,_ he internally snorts. _But for Peter, I’ll try abso-fucking-lutely anything._

 

He goes on to the fourth video.

 

“Oh, my— God, yes,” he breathes out, excitement coloring his tone. “Fri, FRIDAY, I need you—" he pauses the video and stands quickly, turning around in a circle twice “—I need you to call Brucie for me, okay, Fri? It’s urgent.” he finishes his train of thought and begins pacing up and down the desk spaces, nervously fiddling with random objects. 

 

“Calling Bruce Banner.”

 

“You’re a genius, Pete.” whispers Tony under his breath.

 

“Hello?” Bruce’s voice filters into the lab-space and halts Tony’s excessive energy momentarily.

 

“Brucie, I’ve got an outlandish theory that I need your help on.”

 

“Wait, like right now?”

 

“No time to waste, time is of the essence, yadda yadda yadda. You’re still in Manhattan, yeah? Can you get here in the next thirty, forty-five minutes? Because Bruce, you’re gonna be interested.”

 

***

 

Tony Stark, according to the world, is not a patient man.

 

As an engineer and a scientist, patience is a perquisite. Tony has learned throughout the years how to channel his energy appropriately and to maintain the best results. He has to be patient.

 

He usually distracts himself with new projects and works not to censor his creativity.

 

Still, Tony is like the next person and doesn’t like to be kept waiting. There comes a time when waiting becomes needless and unbearable. And a year without half the universe is cruel.

 

A year without Peter Parker is torturous.

 

***

 

Pepper runs her fingers through his hair in a soothing, mindless motion that works to calm Tony down. They are on the couch with the television on, muted, and the setting sun throws dazzling rays of pinks and oranges across the room. Tony is sprawled on his back with his head in her lap and Pepper is curled into the corner of the leather couch.

 

“No headway since June?” he grumbles under his breath, massaging his temples with more pressure than is necessary. “I mean, I know that neither of us are specialists in quantum physics or much in the way of theories, but you’d think between Bruce and me, two very talented modern day scientists, we’d have made some headway, ya know? I _am_ a genius after all.”

 

“So you keep saying.” she cracks, partially distracted by her StarkPhone, partially to keep him talking.

 

“And I get it: Shuri has other important matters on her mind. No pressure here, though her backing out of the research has definitely been felt.”

 

“Mmhmm.”

 

“She’s scarily intelligent. Reminds me a bit of Pete. They would’ve gotten along like an oil rig on fire.”

 

Pepper snorts a laugh and puts down the electronic. “I don’t think they’d let you adopt the Queen of Wakanda.”

 

“They won’t; I’ve already asked.”

 

“Tony!” he pulls a startled laugh out of her and she tries to lessen the noise by covering her mouth with her shoulder. She clears her throat. “Do you want to bounce ideas off of me?”

 

A weary sigh and he shrugs.

 

“Is this you being stubborn or sullen?”

 

“I’ve told you all these years this is what it would be like to be married to me, Pep.” Tony says on a heavier sigh.

 

Pepper pinches the skin beneath his right arm.

 

“Ow!”

 

“Your wife takes offense to that slander.”

 

“I didn’t even—"

 

“Oh, you didn’t have to; I know what you’re implying.”

 

“I’m just being honest!”

 

“You’re being self-deprecating is what you’re honestly being, Tony.” Pepper utters fiercely then takes a deep breath and holds. On an exhale she continues, “You gotta stop being so hard on yourself.”

 

“I can’t.” he stresses. “Not when Pete’s— Pepper, I feel like an absolute failure.”

 

His wife chooses her next words carefully, returning to playing with his hair. “Then bring him home, Tony. But... you also need to take better care of yourself because you’re not going to be good for any of us if you run yourself ragged.”

 

_I’m trying,_ he wants to cry out, _that’s all I’m trying to do. But you know that already, don’t you?_ On an exhale, he closes his eyes and buries his face in her stomach.

 

***

 

Eighteen months in and Tony’s ready to rip out his graying hair.

 

“I can’t take much more.”

 

Natasha and Bruce look to Tony in concern.

 

Nat unbuckles her seatbelt and walks the short distance to Tony, kneeling before him in a swift movement. Tony is too busy watching his fingers yank out air bubbles to pay attention to the other occupants on the Quinjet. He glances up, though, when gentle hands stay his own and light blue eyes meet him unflinching.

 

“I don’t know if any of us can.” she replies hoarsely and clears her throat before continuing. “I can’t— I’ve seen what hell Clint’s been through so I can imagine yours, Tony.”

 

“Pete’s not even my kid.”

 

“When has a technicality ever stopped Tony Stark before?”

 

Despite himself Tony feels his lips pull into a small smirk.

 

“We have to keep trying.” Nat continues. “We’re going to reverse Thanos’s decisions. We don’t have a choice because there are no other options.”

 

“And if we die?” Tony tilts his head as he takes Natasha in, watching the blonde carefully as he hints to the argument they all had before taking off for Wakanda.

 

“So fucking what? Then we die.”

 

Tony’s nod is sharp.

 

“I refuse to die in vain, though. We have people to save. Dying is for the end, okay?”

 

“Obviously.” he recoils as Nat swats his knee. “Hey there, I’m pushing fifty here, woman; you need to be gentle with me.”

 

Natasha laughs, eyes brightening before her head tilts back. “Oh, you’re so full of shit, Tony.” she grins up at him and moves to stand.

 

Tony latches onto her wrist to stay her and lets go when she raises a brow in question. “If something happens to me—"

 

“Tony, you don’t—” Bruce speaks up for the first time, a blurred motion out of the corner of Tony’s eye.

 

The mechanic plows on, waving away Bruce and locking on Nat, “If something happens to me, and we know this is a suicide mission, you have to promise me to get to Peter. He’s gonna be freaking out. Kid likes to pretend he’s strong and well put together and trust me he is but this...? He’ll need someone to ground him and bring him back to Earth. His senses may even be too much for him. _Shit_.

 

“The kid was terrified back on Titan. But whatever you do, please _do not_ let him fight Thanos if that purple asshole is still alive after we fix his mess. Please, Nat; I’m _begging_ you. Keep Peter out of it.”

 

He doesn’t care how contradictory or hypocritical he may sound now. His priority is saving Peter and making sure he is safe. He’s already got Pepper as safe as she can be at home. Nothing else matters.

 

Nat scrutinizes him.

 

Tony doesn’t fidget. Stays still and allows the former Russian operative to look for whatever it is she is looking for in his expression. And waits. Then, he’s just about to tell her he’ll ask Clint instead when she speaks.

 

“I’ll do it.”

 

Words will never portray the relief that sags his body. All the same he says a soft, “Thank you, Nat.”

 

It will have to be enough.


	2. Sun is Cold and Rain is Hard

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Today has to be the day. He can't stand to be separated from Peter another day - can't articulate the anger his loss and the entire universe's losses that sends fuel into his nervous system prompts him into action.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still don't own anything. See you at the end? :)

Restless energy courses through his bloodstreams and sends his body into noticeable tremors. Today has to be the day. He can’t stand being separated from Peter another day— can’t articulate the anger his loss and the entire universe’s losses that sends fuel into his nervous system prompts him into action. He can do this— the team can do this— _they have a plan to enact and people to avenge; a timeline to correct; they can do this._

 

“Positions, everyone.” Captain America’s soft voice filters through their comms.

 

The Avengers have been broken and tentatively reassembled but they are still family. Despite their shit and their disagreements; this is bigger than their pettiness. And family sticks together. They said their well wishes and unsaid goodbyes this morning in Wakanda after Carol and Steve ironed out the final details. Now, waiting on Thanos to appear and start the final showdown, nobody speaks. Once upon a time their communication lines were full of inside jokes and witty remarks as they took down that particular day’s villain and shouts on whose turn it was to drive the Quinjet home. Stark contrast today: they keep their comm lines free and open and eerily silent.

 

As Tony shifts into position by the downed moon Thanos had chucked at him, he makes eye contact with Rhodes. He nods and lowers his faceplate. He cannot worry about anyone aside from Thanos and Peter; he has to trust his teammates to do their jobs and do them well. Nothing else matters; only the mission; only saving humanity; saving his kid.

 

A violent shiver runs down his spine with the taste of death lingering in the air.

 

“He’s headed your way.” Captain Marvel’s harsh breathing crackles into existence, Queen Shuri’s technology more than capable of handling the distance between their ports of contact.

 

“Hold your positions.” Cap commands.

 

Nobody moves.

 

Then, rumbling buzzes overhead not unlike Thor’s famous entrances and Titan’s skyline turns reddish orange before eclipsing into a smoking, black hole.

 

It’s go time.

 

“I didn’t even have to invite the Avengers to my home planet for a tête-à-tête and they are cowards hiding from me.” Thano’s voice appears before the mad Titan does. Footsteps clomp and give away the dumbass’s position. “Well? Shall we?”

 

Tony itches to move— to do _something_.

 

“Wait.” Cap breathes the word as if reading Iron Man’s mind, so lightly if it weren’t for the high resolution devices in their ears nobody would have heard him. “Wait, don’t— not yet… NOW!”

 

Cap’s yell takes on a exasperated undertone that Tony recognizes innately. Tony breaks cover all the same before Cap’s command. He can be the first distraction.

 

They explode all around the mad Titan, coming at him from seven different angles, surprise attacking Thanos to slow him down. Tony throws himself at Thanos from the front. His goal is to get that damned gauntlet off, dislodge the infinity stones, and reverse the snap despite. (Tony’s choosing to ignore Thor’s warning about potential dangers handling the gauntlet may cause.) Cap hits next by throwing his shield at the purple dumbass’s head and the rest follows in a furious smattering of righteous indignation. Despite the time apart, they fight cohesively like a team.

 

Thanos attempts to swat Black Widow away from his legs and dodge one of Hawkeye’s explosive arrows simultaneously. His face morphs into parental amusement as if the bastard is fond of their actions.

 

So Tony calls him out on it. “Hey asshole!”

 

“Stark.” chuckles Thanos, plucking another arrow from the air and snapping it in half. “Thank you for bringing your friends to me. Though, I wish I knew about your decision before I left for Earth.”

 

“I thought you were cursed with knowledge?” he keeps talking in order to maintain their distractions; taking a page out of his kid’s book, now, ironically enough. “Shouldn’t you have saw us coming?”

 

“It was an option, of course.” Thanos answers breezily. “You should know what it is like to be cursed with knowledge and not guaranteed to make the correct choice.”

 

Tony snorts, incredulous, but remains silent. He unleashes medium-level rockets at the Titan, mindful of his teammates but unwilling not to get in some kind of hit.

 

Thanos shoves Black Widow, Captain America, and War Machine out of his way to engage Iron Man’s rockets. Tony glances behind the monster at a new approaching figure. Thanos’s movements turn into a blur from the corner of Tony’s left eye so he only hears the grunts of his teammates.

 

“Go for the arm!” Tony hollers at the approaching figure.

 

Thor charges with Stormbreaker leading the way.

 

Tony dives left and tucks, rolling onto the russet dirt.

 

Thanos starts screaming and Tony engages the thrusters. He has a gauntlet to procure. As he spins around to find Thor plunging Stormbreaker into the purple bastard’s bicep, Tony flies closer and readies himself. When Thanos looks like he might break away from Thor’s grasp, Tony launches a nanobot designed to immobilize an opponent and aims for Thanos’s left arm.

 

Grunts leave the mad Titan’s mouth and Thor remains calm. The nanobot latches on effortlessly. Tony hovers closer, waiting for his opening. Thanos struggles, lashing out and jerking his body wildly. The King of Asgard has the upper hand and easily blocks the movements with his upper body. Tony watches as four of Black Widow’s electricity thrumming widow bites soar toward Thanos and leech onto his exposed legs like a needy starfish in the ocean. Tony hopes Hawkeye will keep his juiced-up arrows out of the air for the next sixty seconds until the widow bites loose their intensity; not for a need to keep Thanos alive so much as every time they have tested that particular combination in training anyone within a thirty foot radius got blasted off their feet and a horrid shock. With Thanos mostly immobilized now, Tony waits.

 

A couple heartbeat pass and then the arm attached to the gauntlet plummets to the ground.

 

Tony races for it, scoops up the bloody appendage, and takes to the sky beginning his retreat. He wiggles off Thanos’s detached arm and chucks it over his shoulder. A blur of black and blue whizzes past him, nearly knocking him off course, but it doesn’t come back for him. Concerned, Tony engages the comms.

 

“Uh, guys? Incoming at my three.”

 

Tony does not allow himself to glance behind to see who the incomer is but he has a feeling he knows who it will be. Nebula, most likely. Rocket warned them the metal woman would appear to kill her adoptive father. _More the merrier,_ the sarcastic side of Tony thinks. So long as she doesn’t fuck up their agenda, Tony doesn’t particularly care how Thanos dies so long as the bastard does and they can correct the snap that started all this bullshit.

 

Tony directs the suit to land behind a decimated rubble pile and immediately begins trying to pry off the infinity stones one by one, dropping them to the earth without a thought. It’s definitely not proper but Tony gives zero fucks. He does not want to wield the gauntlet but just wants to fix things. He’s a mechanic; Tony Stark fixes things; it is one of the few things he is unapologetically good at and Tony aches to fix Thanos’s actions.

 

He drops topaz power stone last then immediately looks down to his feet to see them spread out in a weird half-circle. He had Thor and Rocket explain the differences in the stones to him for the better part of three hours two nights ago. He reaches for the orange soul stone and holds it between his thumb and index finger.

 

“Please,” he whispers, feeling a wave of rare self-consciousness wash over him. “Please, let me fix this. How do I reverse the wrongs assaulted on the universe?”

 

Nothing happens.

 

Quick on his feet, he turns it three times like Harry Potter did to see his loved ones again and nothing happens again. So he spins it a few more times just to be sure. Based on the knowledge he gained nights ago, he knows the stones very well may be sentient. So he tries to play to any humanity.

 

“Please, please, all I want to do is see my kid. Please.”

 

Panic licks at the base of his spine along with a fuzziness in his head and Tony pushes it away, trying to focus on his task. The team knew getting the gauntlet would be half the battle; they could not think of much else aside from potentially wielding the gauntlet to reverse the universe. Carol had been quick to dissuade them of that notion.

 

“Simply put, you wouldn’t be strong enough. It would most likely kill you and even if you somehow managed to survive the initial power surge, you’d die afterwards. It’s not worth it.”

 

But was it worth it?

 

“Stark!”

 

Startled, Tony whips around in search of the harried voice calling his name because it did not come through the comms. He fights the knee jerk reaction to shout back and starts groping for the five free stones and the loose golden molded-hand. Something must have happened for anyone on the team to start calling out for him; they had agreed beforehand to stick with the comms if absolutely necessary. Thor’s and Cap’s jobs were to apprehend and kill Thanos. If Thor is breaking protocol to call out a warning, the purple dumbass most likely escaped their hold on him and made a break for Tony.

 

“Stark! Run!”

 

“Shit.” Tony obeys Thor’s demand and engages the thrusters, spinning out in his hurry for a split second before righting his posture and flies. Tony absolutely cannot engage with the mad Titan so long as he is in possession of the infinity stones. They can’t risk losing them again. So he wavers between retreating and turning around to assess the situation. Are his teammates okay? How many are injured? Have any of them—? He shudders at the half-formed thought. _Focus, Stark!_

 

“Do not engage, Iron Man.” Captain America’s voice floats into his ears. “Thanos is in pursuit with a weapon. Do not engage. Thor and I are pursing behind him and Nebula.”

 

Decision made, Tony hits the thrusters a bit harder and starts zooming in and out of the sky. He feels momentarily foolish to be running away from the fight but mentally reminds himself how vastly important his job is right now; no stones means a world under Thanos’s misguided and faulty logic.

 

He’s taking a sharp turn when it happens. An object makes contact with his upper back and Tony is taken down by the sheer force of the momentum. There isn’t any time to react: he falls and lands awkwardly on the ground.

 

The stones falls from his grasp and the gauntlet lands several feet away from him. The wind is knocked from his lungs and crashing waves of dizziness stay him.

 

“Damn it,” he huffs and shifts around, immediately looking for the colorful stones. His worry is finding all six before the gauntlet; there is little use for the golden hand without the stones. “C’mon c’mon c’mon damn it not now!”

 

He finds the time and power stones first, retracting the nanotechnology on his right hand to better grasp the objects in his rush. Then he is crawling across dirt to collect reality and power, eyes roaming manically back and forth for the missing two. The faint blue of the space stone is off to his left and Tony makes a frenzied move for it.

 

_Where’s the soul stone? Oh no, c’mon?_

 

Twenty or so feet from where he found the second to last stone a deafening commotion reverberates and Tony glances over, seeing dirt and debris kicking up like a miniature tornado. He assumes the culprits to be Thanos and Nebula. He doesn’t wait to confirm his gut prediction only starts his search for the orange stone over. It couldn’t have gone far if eighty-three percent of them managed to stay somewhat together. But where in the _hell_ did it go?

 

He spots it and bites down on his tongue to keep from shouting his victory. He army crawls the rest of the distance and paws at the dirt to reach for it, fingers just skimming it when he is yanked back.

 

 _“No!”_ he cries out, still reaching as he is roughly pulled away.

 

“Stark!”

 

“No, just— fuck off, would you?” Tony grunts and attempts to kick out with his boots heavily and shimmies upwards again to get the blasted stone. The exertion causes his breath to quicken.

 

Tony squirrels out of the hold and closes the fist holding the stones in order to push up to all fours and shoves forward, moving as nimbly as possible to get away from Thanos and pick up the missing stone. Thanos sounds like he is attempting to follow, yet Nebula’s battle cries sound promising in slowing the purple bastard down. Or his missing appendage is slowing him down. Not that Tony cares what the catalyst is only that he needs the extra seconds.

 

He grabs the final stone.

 

Not even a full breath cycle passes before he is rudely dragged back.

 

Now, Tony flips from his stomach to his back and directs his gaze down as he kicks out, watching as his foot makes contact with Thanos’s mouth. He may engage a flare of fire power. The mad Titan barely wobbles without his left arm for balance simply windmills his able arm and finds his equilibrium. Just over the purple bastard’s shoulders is the furious Nebula waving around a blur of a weapon that Tony assumes is a spear or knife. His moment of distraction costs him as Thanos rips off the nanotechnology formed around his right foot up to just below the knee. He instantly begins squirming and wiggling backward, trying his damnedest to back the fuck up and away from this psychopath because he absolutely hates being on his back right now. Thanos copies his movements like an ugly, distorted mirror. He doesn’t see Nebula again, either, which means Thanos must have swatted her away.

 

“I should have killed you after taking the stone from Strange.” the words are a harsh growl out of Thanos’s busted lips as he awkwardly shuffles around to his knees. 

 

“Lost your chance, asshole.”

 

Tony keeps his eyes on Thanos and makes an attempt to find his footing again. He thrusts out his left hand to send a charged blast at the bastard as a distraction to stand only to watch Thanos block it with his forearm. A noise of agitation lodges in Tony’s throat.

 

“Argh!”

 

When Tony thinks on what happens next down the line, it is a toss up between who strikes first: Thanos or Nebula. Suddenly, though, there’s a tip of a blade sticking out of Thanos’s chest and a dagger buried deep in Tony’s thigh. The wound whites out his vision and stays his erratic movements. It’s a different kind of agony compared to the last stab he received from the purple bastard— both managed to take his breath away, but where before Tony was ready and willing to die he is now determined to live. _For Peter._ Finally, he blinks his eyes open again it is in time to see Nebula behead Thanos.

 

The detached head drops with a wet _plop_ and rolls until the unseeing eyes stare up at the sky.

 

Nebula tosses away the weapon and meets Tony’s gaze almost defiantly.

 

A hysterical bubble of laughter lodges itself in the back of Tony’s throat, eyes flickering back and forth between vengeful daughter and decapitated father.

 

“Tony!”

 

“Cap!”

 

His leg is burning.Come to think of it, his back is aching, too. He is weary about the location of the wound to his femur artery. He breathes in sharply and holds. Unleashes his cramped hand and lets the infinity stones tumble. Breathes out and shudders.

 

Steve and Thor come to a halt beside a calm Nebula, eyeing Tony with blatant concern. Steve jogs forward to investigate the wounded leg and Thor bends down to retrieve the six infinity stones. Perfunctorily, Tony fills Captain American in on his wound.

 

“Stark, how are your hands not burnt?” Thor implores incredulously.

 

“What?” Tony turns away from Steve’s mindful prods and faces the King of Asgard. “I don’t understand, Point Break; what’s the problem? I got all the stones like we discussed. And the gauntlet is somewhere over there.” he jabs his thumb over his shoulder to indicate the location. “What are you— what’re you yammering on about?”

 

“You handled the gauntlet as well as all the stones and yet your hands are untouched?”

 

Tony does not have time to reply to Thor’s odd concerns as Steve’s prodding jars the protruding dagger; and he doesn’t mean to let any noise escape yet all the same Tony positively howls. Flames lick up his veins and turn his insides to dry ice— it fucking _hurts_.

 

“Sorry, Tony; shit, I’m sorry!”

 

Bent over his leg, trying to stem the pain and not hit the stupid dagger and catch his breath, Tony grits his teeth and nods jerkily. “S’fine.”

 

“Are you—?”

 

He nods, “Yep. Maybe… let’s just take the damned thing out, okay? I can patch myself up real quick.”

 

Steve’s brows furrow. “I don’t think that is a good idea, Tony. It may have nicked an artery.”

 

“I’ve survived worse.”

 

Steve’s expression pinches up, rightfully astonished.

 

Tony quickly summons the nanotechnology mixed with web-fluids he needs then instructs Steve to take out the dagger. On a countdown from three to zero, Steve unsheathes the weapon and Tony slaps on the makeshift bandages.

 

He shouts.

 

“Tones?” comes from a worried Rhodes. “Where are you guys at, man?”

 

At least Rhodey had the common sense to speak into his comm and not shout; not that it mattered at this point, he thought as his eyes fall on the dead Thanos.

 

Instead of replying out loud Tony sends up a tiny missile and waits for the rest of the team to find them.

 

“Was that really necessary?” Steve asks with a snort of amusement, setting the bloody dagger beside his knee.

 

“Always,” wheezes Tony, swatting the blond’s hand away and begins fiddling with his bandage. “We gotta— we gotta get everyone back. I couldn’t do it.”

 

“It’ll be tricky.” comes Nebula’s eerily robotic voice.

 

“We’ll figure it out, Tony.” Steve reassures gently, turning away from the blue android with a minor expression of exasperation. “We’ll get everyone back.”

 

“No, you don’t—”

 

“I really do.”

 

On a gusty exhale, Tony reclines and palms his face. “Wait.” he glances around and to a befuddled Steve. “Where in the hell did Point Break go? Wasn’t he just here?”

 

“Tones?”

 

“Steve?”

 

“Where’s everyone at?”

 

They ignore the calls of their teammates in favor of searching for the missing Asgardian. Tony tugs on Cap’s arm until he gives in to his silent demand, aiding him to stand and Steve hovers like a mother hen. Tony half-heartedly shoos him away.

 

“I’ll stay here and direct your friends.” Nebula speaks with an edge of a bite, but Tony is too preoccupied to be worried.

 

“Thor, buddy, where’d you go?”

 

He takes off in the direction he last saw the golden gauntlet from hell and hopes that is the correct direction, limping and going slow much to his consternation. His body thrums in achy-ness and refuses a faster gait. Steve keeps pace. Each step feels like a fiery, itchy infection that needs doctoral assistance and honestly Tony knows he is a dumbass to walk on it but he’s so curious why Thor would up and disappear on them so suddenly.

 

In the distance, he sees Thor’s figure and Tony squints, wondering what it is, exactly, their teammate is doing that requires him to be alone. Stupidly and belatedly, the thought crosses the genius’s mind— _is he wielding the gauntlet?_ — and gasps sharply, coughing harshly. Steve is questioning his sanity but Tony can’t answer; he has to reach Thor.

 

“Thor!” he runs a step forward and nearly falls, but keeps taking it one step at a time, run drag run drag, pushing away Steve’s help, panting and sweating and aching, but nothing has mattered like this in so long and his mind shuts down but his body doesn’t thankfully. “THOR!”

 

Tony is too far away.

 

“I’m sorry.” the Asgardian’s admission carries over.

 

The parallel guts Tony and he tries to throw himself the rest of the distance as he sees Thor turn away from him, adjusting the final stone into the gauntlet on his fucking left hand and raises it.

 

“It has to be this way.”

 

“No, stop!”

 

Tony’s perhaps five steps away when Thor snaps his fingers and the dim planet glows in startling technicolor, throwing Tony to the ground and blinding him. His throat is raw from yelling but he cannot stop. _Save him save him save him!_

 

Eventually his vision finishes whiting out and he blinks away the spots frantically, scrambling onto all fours into standing and sprints as fast as he can. The world has no sound and colors are dancing before him but Tony cannot stop to gather his bearings.

 

Finally, he trips and lands before a not breathing Thor.

 

“Dammit, no—” Tony whispers, crawling to the still blond and shaking a blackened shoulder. “Get up, Thor, c’mon we don’t— _get up!_ ”

 

“No.” Steve stops behind Tony, grief mixing into his quiet denial.

 

Thor is dead.

 

Vision blurring, Tony looks over his shoulder at Steve, hoping to find _something_ in dark blue orbs that’ll tell Tony’s exhausted neurotransmitters he misread the situation when instead he finds the truth: the death of a comrade… a friend. Tony’s head is shaking before he even knows he starts denying it. He knew this morning they might have died and had even accepted his own potential demise if it aided in bringing the universe back to rights; staring death in the face never gets any easier.

 

Footsteps come running behind them and Natasha materializes, sliding to a step beside Steve and her eyes assess the situation perfunctorily and end on Thor.

 

“You’re gonna wanna see this.” her alto is a touch lower than normal, her only outward sign of grief, and she starts corralling Tony and Steve forward. “There’s a commotion about twenty or so meters up ahead. Come look.”

 

Steve looks to Tony and offers him a hand up. Slowly, Tony rises and finds his footing. Obediently, they follow Natasha.

 

When they crest the next sand-packed hill, Tony understands why Natasha had been urgent: the commotion turns out to be the return of Peter Quill and the big dude with red tattoos. Drax. Tony’s breath catches, hope rearing up, and he clutches at Nat’s arm to steady himself. He shuffles forward with renewed purpose, eyes roaming around to see who else has returned.

 

A cloud of dust swirls and turns solid, revealing Doctor Strange.

 

“My kid,” Tony whispers, eyes roaming frantically for any more odd piles of dust spitting out people, stumbling forward to keep up the search.

 

“Tony, wait—” Natasha goes for placating him.

 

She’ll only slow him down.

 

“Maybe you should wait, Tony.” Steve echoes the sentiment.

 

“My kid,” is only on his mind and Tony forces his pace into a jog, walk-sliding down the hill and meeting Strange’s eyes. “Where is he?”

 

“He’ll be back. We’re in the correct timeline; you made the right decision, Tony.”

 

Tony isn’t reassured, tuning out the Guardians’s joyous reunion, trying to pinpoint where exactly they were at when Peter— when Peter— _where was it?!_

 

“Peter!” he keeps calling out, eyes searching and body staggering forward. “Peter?”

 

A cry from his right steals Tony’s attention, legs tangling awkwardly in his haste to shift directions. Suddenly, there he is before him: crumbled in a ball with his hands clutching his head, specifically his ears, body visibly shaking.

 

“Pete!” he sobs in relief, running to close the distance between them _stat_.

 

The shuddering figure looks up and Peter’s brown eyes are watery and red. “Mis’er Stark?”

 

“Holy shit,” Tony falls down beside his kid and Peter scrambles up and throws himself at Tony. “Oh kid, oh my god, Peter; I’ve got you, I’ve you. Shhh shhh, it’s okay. It’s okay, it’s okay now.” he doesn’t know who he is attempting to console but the words pour out of his mouth like a soothing litany. “I love you, kid; I can’t believe it. _Pete._ ” He presses a hard kiss to the crown of curls and his kid mewls, shifting around until he is practically sitting in his lap and hiding his face in the crook of Tony’s neck. “I have you, Pete.”

 

Adrenaline weans out of Tony’s body and it’s only his stubborn determination keeping him and Peter upright. The crash is coming on fast. They are far from home and the universe feels as delicate as a newborn baby. Decisions are on standby; Tony never thought anything beyond Save Peter Parker and Bring Him Home. Nothing else mattered and he supposes his mind is going to have to shift appropriately soon. Now, he focuses on his kid whole and real and _alive_ in his arms.

 

Peter makes a distressed noise.

 

“You’re okay now, kiddo; everything is going to work out now, I promise you.”

 

“I believe you,” whispers Peter, nodding shakily. “I knew you’d save me.”

 

Tony’s eyes close at the admission, rubbing Peter’s back firmly in hopes of grounding the teenager. His throat closes up on the words floating in his head _at least someone thought so, kid_ and he stays silent. Instead, he admits softly into Peter’s hair, “I’m so fucking happy you’re back, kid.”

 

They will be okay.

 

***

 

They bury Thor back in New York, up at the compound, and it is just the original Avengers plus Peter, Pepper, Rhodey, and Happy in attendance. It’s a sombre affair made worse by the overcast sky. No rain, thankfully. Tony stands between Pepper and Peter, both leaning on him, and Tony tucks them into his side. His family is here and yet he is always missing someone. Life is constantly evolving and shifting and some days it feels like Tony cannot possibly keep up and it would be simpler to lockup downstairs in the lab and never emerge. Then Peter nudges his head against Tony’s sternum and it’s the metaphorical slap in the face he needs. He’d miss out on a lot with his kid if he locked himself away.

 

The Avengers are fractured again and have been for quite some time; but being down a member paints an ugly storm cloud over their mindsets and Tony knows Thor will always be missed. The Avengers may never fully heal yet they may find a way back together again. Then again, perhaps it is time for the younger generation to start taking point.

 

Soon.

 

And until then he has a teenager to finish raising with a hot aunt.

 

•••

 

“Where the fuck have you been, Peter?!”

 

“May—”

 

“If the next words out of your mouth are ‘I can explain’ I am going to lose my mind.”

 

“There were aliens!”

 

“Oh, my God. I can’t even— go to your room, I can’t even look at you right now without my blood pressure rising.”

 

“Wait, May—”

 

“Now, please, Peter.”

 

“Go ahead, kiddo.”

 

“And _you!_ I can’t believe you took our kid to fucking outer space. Like what the fuck is wrong with you?”

 

“Way ahead of you on contemplating that one, May. I promise you.”

 

“Argh! Stark, you and I are going to have a _long_ conversation on what it means to co-parent.”

 

***

 

“Hey, Mister Stark?”

 

Tony hums, chancing a quick glance over at Peter in the passenger seat to find the teenager looking out the rainy window. He turns back to the road and says, “What’s up, Pete?”

 

The teen stays silent long enough that Tony is half-convinced Pete didn’t even mean to speak out loud when he does open his mouth.

 

“Are you sure you want me to tag along? I can stay in the car if you changed your mind.”

 

 _This kid, I swear to God,_ Tony internally rolls his eyes and allows a small huff to come out as his only outward sign of irritation. “Pete,” he stresses, keeping his voice approachable and sincerely, and sees the younger genius turn his way out of the corner of his eye, “I wouldn’t have asked you to come if I didn’t mean it. Okay?”

 

“Okay,” the kid’s soft in his reply but Tony takes what he can get.

 

The last fifteen minutes of the drive is spent in companionable silence, though Tony knows if you asked Peter he would mention the soft rock music and traffic as additional background noise. All the same, he does not mind the silences with Peter. Eventually Tony is taking the last left turn into the cemetery and carefully winding his way through it until pulling to a stop.

 

“Come on.” his command is soft, encouraging, and Tony opens the driver’s side door and closes it with a firm hip shove.

 

A curly brown head emerges first and Peter stretches as he climbs out fully. As Pete finishes his stretch, Tony opens the backdoor of the Audi and fishes around for an umbrella before easing out again, shutting the door and opening the umbrella.

 

“Come under before you melt, Spiderling.”

 

Peter scoffs but his lips pull up. “I won’t melt in the rain, I swear!”

 

“Better not take any chances all the same.” Tony motions the younger over with his free hand and then pulls Peter into his side once both are under the shelter of the umbrella. “There we are,” he fusses over the teen for a quick moment much to Peter’s faux consternation, playfully swatting away the hand pushing his hair off his forehead.

 

They share a smile.

 

Tony leads them through the path, taking twists and turns with familiarity despite the years it has been since his previous visit. Peter keeps up a nervous stream of dialog the entire walk, not that Tony minds, humming along when necessary. Soft patterings of raindrops hits the black umbrella and rolls off the sides. As Peter sucks in a large breath, Tony stops walking and stares at the double headstone before them.

 

**_Howard and Maria Stark_ **

**_August 15, 1917 - December 16, 1991_ **

**_April 29, 1932 - December 16, 1991_ **

**_“Here lies one whose name was writ on water.”_ **

 

Tony smirks at the sight of his mother’s chosen quote by John Keats. He remembers summer mornings sitting with his mother reading poetry to him and how she favored the romantics. He was twenty-one years old and had no idea what to put on his parents’ gravestones and he had actually laughed when he read his mother’s will. His mother’s humor had been more in alignment with Peter’s, in a way. _Mom, you’re missing out on one of the best things in my life. I think Pete would have had you wrapped because he definitely has got me._

 

Yet standing next to Peter in front of his parents’ gravestone feels monumental. Tony has had plenty of milestones he hasn’t been able to share with either of them since their deaths, but bringing Peter to meet his mom brings a shiver down his spine and an ache deep into his soul. In a way it is like bringing his son to meet his grandparents. Tony shakes his head, glancing over at his silent companion.

 

“Oh,” Peter inhales, eyes glued to the black marble stone work for several seconds before wide brown eyes meet Tony’s imploringly.

 

“She would have loved you so much, Pete.”

 

Peter tucks himself more firmly into Tony’s side as both take in the sight before them. The sun peeks out between the clouds, providing an odd array of sunshine as the rain continues to fall steadily, blanketing them in a swatch of warmth despite the chilling wind. Autumn is eclipsing into winter and change is forever on the horizon.

 

“I’ve been without them longer than I had them.”

 

Brown eyes look up at him and run over his features, searching. “Does it get any easier?”

 

A shuddering inhale and then, “Some days you can handle it better. Some days it feels like you’re so incredibly numb from it that nothing else can hurt you. But it never really goes away; you only learn to live because it is what they would have wanted for you. It’s all you can do, Pete.”

 

“I don— I don’t really remember my parents. I wasn’t even five when they died. It was always… always Ben and May. Uncle Ben never liked talking about my parents, but May let it slip to me once that they weren’t close— Ben was in my parents’ wedding because he was so much younger but my parents didn’t show up for Ben and May’s. Stuff like that.

 

“But I— I think you’re right about that… about learning how to live because they’d want you to be okay. Uncle Ben wouldn’t have wanted me to blame myself when I wasn’t the one who— the one who pulled the trigger.” Peter finishes shakily, breathing somewhat erratically but looking up at Tony with such warmth in his dark eyes. “I think he’d have really liked you, too.”

 

Tony hides his smile into Peter’s hair, squeezing him tight and not letting go.

 

Eventually he asks, “Ready to go back to the Compound?”

 

“Can we get ice cream first?”

 

Tony’s laugh is loud and contagious, ringing out with pure amusement throughout the cemetery. “Sure thing, kiddo; we can get ice cream first. But we should probably pick up a pint for Pep or she’ll be upset.”

 

“Yeah, we can’t have her mad at us for the whole weekend. She’d probably lock us out of the lab or something crazy.”

 

“So dramatic.”

 

“I get it from you.”

 

Peace settles over him. _We’ll be okay,_ Tony thinks. He ruffles Peter’s hair and the kid ducks out of the way, shooting a hilariously exaggerated betrayed look at the action, yet his eyes are dancing with mirth. His kid is back and the universe has been corrected. They deserve a break, a time to heal, and time to relax. _So yes,_ Tony concludes, _we will be okay._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> omg omg omg just shy of three weeks of writing this thing and I am FINISHED! I haven't written anything this long or intense in years, really, because I'm wordy and have been trying to learn how to write concise. I wavered about how to end Thanos without being too lax or contrite. Send me some love and your thoughts, or even yell at me your pain, please and thank you? <3

**Author's Note:**

> Pretty please come yell at me in the comments? <3


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